


Good (Medieval) Times

by Magnolia822



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Post Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin go to Medieval Times to see Gwaine, now reincarnated as a struggling actor named Eoin, perform. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good (Medieval) Times

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to AsyaAna for betaing this very silly thing. <3

Arthur sat on the bed with a frown on his face as he considered the jeans Merlin had placed in his lap. “I don’t like these, Merlin.”

“Like them or not, they’ll look good on you. It’s what people wear nowadays.” 

“I thought you said we were going to a tournament.” 

“We are, but it’s not like it used to be. It’s not real. It’s just pretend—for fun.” Merlin pulled a t-shirt over his head and smiled. He’d expected some resistance. In the months since Arthur had returned—miraculously—from Avalon, Merlin had been acclimating him to modern life. While Arthur was quick to accept many of the developments and conveniences, he was reluctant to wear clothes that made him ‘look like a peasant.’ Merlin humoured him to a point, but during this trip to visit Gwaine, Merlin was attempting to keep a low profile—a difficult task when the man you were travelling with insisted on wearing chainmail and a cape. 

Arthur made a face. “I don’t understand.”

This was the third time Merlin had to describe the premise of the Medieval Times restaurant, with its show of duelling knights and pageantry, to Arthur. He’d begun to wonder whether going was such a good idea, but then again he’d promised Gwaine they would come. 

“And these knights, what kingdoms do they represent?” Arthur asked once Merlin had gone through the explanation again. 

“They don’t represent any kingdoms, they’re just actors playing a part.” 

“Then why are they fighting each other?” 

“For entertainment while we eat. You remember how the travelling pantomime would sometimes come to Camelot and stay at court?” Arthur nodded. “Well, think of it like that.” 

“Hmm. America is strange.” 

Merlin came to stand between Arthur’s spread thighs. “It’ll be fun.” 

“I have a better idea.” Arthur’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and he lifted Merlin’s shirt to kiss his belly. A shiver went through Merlin at the devious glint in Arthur’s eyes. He extricated himself with a little effort; it was a very tempting proposition. 

“But I promised Gwaine we’d be there and we’re already late.” 

“Things were so much better when I could just order you about.” 

“Put your jeans on and let’s go.” 

“Can I at least wear my cape?” 

Merlin sighed.

***

The line at Medieval Times was long and Arthur was impatient. A few customers thought he was in the show because of the cape, but most just ignored them like they were any couple on a date instead of a recently reanimated king and his immortal sorcerer.

Merlin was surprised his email to the bloke named Eoin had been returned. It had only been a whim—Merlin saw him in a bit role on the telly, and the man bore such a striking resemblance to Gwaine, he couldn’t help himself, though in his long experience such inquiries often went badly. He’d been mistaken about Gwen and Morgana more than once. This time, however, he kept the note short, simply asking if the names Merlin or Arthur rang a bell, and he received an enthusiastic reply filled with such intimate details of their previous lives, he was instantly convinced. Gwaine, now a struggling actor living in L.A., insisted they come for a visit and to see his performance as the Green Knight. And so here they were. 

“Why is that child looking at me?” Arthur asked. A few paces away a family of six, all wearing matching orange shirts that read ‘Orange you going to ask if we’re tourists?’ were complaining about the lack of places to sit. The littlest one, a girl of about seven or eight, was staring at Arthur with one finger up her nose. 

Merlin shrugged. “I think you have an admirer.” 

“What do you want, little girl?” Arthur asked her. 

The girl’s blue eyes turned saucer-shaped. “Are you the king?”

“I am.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. How did you know?” 

“You look like a king.” 

A heavy-set woman with short brown hair, obviously the girl’s mother, scowled at them. “Hannah, don’t talk to strange men.” 

“I am not a strange man.” 

“You are, actually,” Merlin whispered. 

“Do shut up, Merlin.” Arthur turned his nose up at the woman, who by now had herded her children into a protected group inside a circle of familiar adults. 

At last the line began to move and Merlin paid their admission, then followed the group into a waiting area filled with cheaply-made souvenirs—plastic knights on horseback, banners and pennants, stuffed animals. Children dragged their parents to examine the glass cases and Merlin and Arthur took a seat away from the fray. 

“Merlin, you told me this was supposed to be fun.” Arthur glared at him from across the table. 

“Let’s get some drinks while we wait,” Merlin said over the booming harpsichord and lyre music filtering in through the overhead speakers. He might need to be drunk to survive this. In recent centuries he’d learned that mortal humans had some very strange ideas about the Middle Ages. Usually he found it entertaining, but at times it was downright insulting—and he wasn’t sure yet which category this particular endeavour would sort itself into. 

Arthur nodded in agreement. “I’ll take two.” 

Merlin wound his way through the throng, circumventing actors from the show who were posing as the King and Queen with some tourists. By the time Merlin returned to the table, Arthur was watching the spectacle, cross-armed. 

“That man calls himself a king. Ridiculous. He makes a mockery of duty with his simpering smile.” 

“He’s just an actor,” Merlin reminded him. 

The man noticed Arthur and walked towards the table. “And what have we here? A loyal subject to the crown?” He was addressing Arthur, who looked at him like he had several heads of varying sizes and colours. 

“I think not.” 

“Oh, a rival, then.” The man’s chuckle boomed through the microphone on his lapel. “I will have to be on my guard!” He thrust out his chest and moved on to the next willing victim. Arthur snorted. 

“What an arse.”

“Indeed. I hardly know which of you is the bigger one. Can you just try to have fun?” Merlin arched an eyebrow. 

Arthur took an obedient sip of his lager. “I’ll try.” 

It was nearly an hour—and three overpriced pints later—when the ‘herald’ finally called them to be seated by colour. Merlin and Arthur, who had requested the Green Knight’s section to cheer on Gwaine, were herded with the others in their group to a misty arena of stands surrounding a sandy jousting ring. It was far larger than the tournament ring at Camelot, and very well-groomed. 

A young woman materialized in front of them. “I’ll be your serving wench for the evening,” she said with a wink. “Would you gentlemen care for another beverage?” 

They did, ordering another round of beer. Just as she brought the drinks, the king and queen appeared on a rectangular dais set up at the far end of the arena and started announcing which members of the audience were celebrating birthdays. Arthur sipped his pint and rolled his eyes. “I wonder what my father would think of all this. What the world has become.” 

“Sorcery?” Merlin said. 

But Arthur couldn’t answer him over the din that erupted when the knights galloped into the arena. 

“There’s Gwaine!” Merlin poked Arthur in the side. The man on the bay horse in front of them tipped his helmet, then took up his banner and rode the length of the field, favouring a few of the ladies with flowers as he went. 

“Still a cad, I see,” Arthur said. “Gods bless him.” 

Merlin blushed. “Some things never change.”

“But this time you’re mine.” Arthur almost growled. 

“I was always yours.” 

A pimply-faced teenager carrying a large tray interrupted the moment. “The King’s Tomato Bisque,” he said, putting a bowl in front of each of them.

“Where’s the spoon?” Arthur asked. 

“Sorry, Milord, but we don’t offer spoons because they didn’t like, have them back then.” 

“I beg to differ,” Arthur said. “We most certainly did, especially the King. I’d like to speak—Ouch! Merlin, why are you hitting me?”

“Don’t mind him,” Merlin said to the boy. “He’s a little drunk.” 

“I am not.” 

“He is.”

“Sorry about the spoon thing,” the boy said, sounding not at all sorry. “But you pick up the bowl with the handle, cool?” 

Merlin nodded. “Cool.” 

“Awesome. Dude.” Arthur gave two thumbs up. The boy gave him a strange look and moved on. 

“You’re overdoing it a little, Arthur.” 

“Sorry.” 

The tournament continued and they had another round of beer, and by the time the Green Knight faced off the ‘evil’ Red Knight, Arthur was indeed drunk, though Merlin knew he would never admit it. He hated the fact Merlin had a greater tolerance after centuries of drinking high percentage beer. 

The same teenager came back with their food, chicken and chips. 

“You want some ketchup?” he asked.

Arthur cocked his head. “You’re telling me you have ketchup—that disgusting substance—but no spoons.” 

“Man, chill out. I just work here.” The audience erupted in cheers as Gwaine bested the Red Knight.

“If we were in my kingdom I’d put you in the stocks for your insolence. Merlin, he’s a worse manservant than you were!” Arthur’s eyes closed as he laughed. “I didn’t think that was possible.” 

“Very drunk,” Merlin told the boy. “Extremely drunk.” 

“Well, I’m going to have to ask Michelle to cut you off then. This is a family place.” 

Once he’d left, Arthur whispered loudly into Merlin’s ear. “I’m having fun now.” 

“I can tell.” 

Things settled down after that until the final battle, the Green Knight versus the Black Knight. Both sections of the arena roared in support of their champion—Merlin even found himself cheering, though he knew the entire thing was staged. The two men aimed their lances at one another and charged. 

Arthur stood as Gwaine fell and rolled out of the way of the horse’s feet. “No!”

Merlin’s face flamed. “Arthur, sit down.” 

“That was a travesty!” Arthur’s eyes blazed. “It wasn’t even a legal hit. Merlin, you saw it right?” 

“Sit down!” a man from behind them called. “My kid can’t see.” 

Now Gwaine and the Black Knight were performing hand-to-hand combat, using the shattered pieces of their lances. Merlin tugged on Arthur’s cape. 

“Sit down, you great idiot.” How many pints had Arthur had? Merlin tried to count but his own mind was fuzzy.

“Bloody hell, Gwaine, don’t let him best you!” Arthur yelled, ignoring him. 

The ‘battle’ went on for another minute or so until the Black Knight knocked Gwaine over; he feigned a wound and fell, hamming it up. The audience booed the Black Knight, Arthur the loudest among them. 

“Unbelievable,” the bloke behind them said. “Sit the fuck down, asshole.” 

Arthur turned around. “What did you call me?” 

“A-s-s-h-o-l-e.” The bloke stood, a huge hulk of a man. Merlin’s body rushed with adrenaline. Either they were going to get their arses kicked or he was going to have to use his magic to diffuse the situation. There was no question which option would win out. Merlin’s fingers tingled as he quietly uttered the spell.

“What was that again?” Arthur asked the man, livid. “I couldn’t quite hear you.” 

“My Lord. My liege!” said the man. His face had gone pale. “Long Live the King!” 

Arthur stared at him, mouth gaping. He looked at Merlin. “What did you do?” 

Merlin shrugged and smiled. 

“Long Live the King!” shouted the man again. He pointed at Arthur and bowed his head. “The King has risen. Long Live the King!” 

Soon a chorus had erupted, a chant that rang through the entire hall, the battle long forgotten. 

“Long Live the King!” Merlin said, joining in. They would probably get arrested, but the look on Arthur’s face made it totally worth it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Good (Medieval) Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/760429) by [readbyjela (jelazakazone)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/pseuds/readbyjela)




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